


Tidal Waves

by professionalgriefer



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: Anxiety, I'm new at this, M/M, Panic Attacks, Whatever you call it, but i really love this ship, dalkenzie, kind of sad but not really, malton, very angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-30
Updated: 2016-03-30
Packaged: 2018-05-30 01:42:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6403534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/professionalgriefer/pseuds/professionalgriefer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post Top 5 episode.</p><p>Dalton kind of maybe regrets sharing such a big secret with all of America.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tidal Waves

**Author's Note:**

> Hey hey hey, guess who's jumping on this bandwagon? Me. I am. I know that this has been done before, but I hope I can do it justice?   
> I have no clue what their relationship status in this tbh I didn't do much planning (whoops). They're probably newly together though. Like, a week or two.  
> Also, this has been two days in the making and I think it's the longest Dalkenzie fic on AO3... (Not that there's a ton but still, I'm pretty happy about that.) (It's six pages in word, which is pretty rad)

Dalton tried to be as open and honest with the public as possible. He knew how much people hated when their idols kept things to themselves.

But with every moment that ticked by, Dalton felt more and more that this was a bad idea. He had been okay with the contents of his video package when they'd been filming. He'd been given dozens of chances to back out and refilm, but he denied them every time. Saying that his fans deserved to know this about him, that it was better to get it out now so it wouldn't come back to bite him later.

The knot in his stomach was growing rapidly and he wondered weakly if it wasn't too late to go back- change the clip, delete it, forget about it entirely. But he also knew that this close to the show, there was nothing that could be done. With pitying smiles, the staff would tell him that 'it's too late, i'm sorry' and he'd have to swallow that with a fake smile and a reassurance that he'd be fine, despite the feeling of dread growing from his stomach and spreading into his chest, his throat, his mind.

The claws of insecurity tore him apart, while the mouth of doubt told him it was going to backfire; that no one was going to vote for a freak. He swallowed harshly, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to reassure himself that he wasn't a freak and this wasn't crazy. It was something millions of people had, after all. His self-reassurance did very little to dissipate the harsh thoughts.

Most of the show passed in a daze. He grinned when he was announced safe, and the happiness was not faked, merely amplified. He found it hard to be joyful when he was about thirty minutes away from having one of his most well-kept secrets revealed to millions of people.

(Tense change whoops)

And all too soon, he's standing on the stage once more, looking at the live audience. His own voice is pulsing in his ears. "Ever since elementary school, I've felt like I've had two sides."

He doesn't remember if he's told the other contestants about his history, about the incident, but he can't bring himself to care. He can't even bring himself to look at them, scared of what emotions he might see on their faces. He focuses on shutting down his emotions, at least until he can get somewhere safe. Somewhere private.

Before he knows it, Ryan leaves the stage and the lights change. The judges are looking at him and the other contestants are looking at him and everyone in the building seems to be looking at him.

He'd be lying if he said he remembers the performance. He'd watch it back later, but he doesn't remember any of it for the time being. He thinks that might be a good thing. He doesn't remember anything that comes after it, either.

His mind is blank, blissfully blank.

Until it isn't. Until he's safely in his hotel room, with the door shut tightly. The waves hit him hard and he crumbles under their force and gets dragged under. His hands won't stop shaking and he starts to pace back and forth. Tries thinking of things to get his mind off of tonight, of what he just told America. But everything leads back to this. Alone, panicking with his hands buried in his hair, tugging so harshly he vaguely wonders if he’ll have any hair after this.  
He doesn't cry. He snatches a blanket off the bed and wraps it around his shoulders as he sits down, right on the floor in the middle of his room. He leans forward, staring at the floor. Unblinking.

He has no clue how long he sits there- could be hours, minutes or mere seconds- before the gentle rap of knuckles sounds on his door.  
"Dalton?" Mackenzie's voice calls when Dalton doesn't move. All he can do is panic inside, his mind screaming that Mackenzie can not see him like this, no one can. 

"I, uh..." Mackenzie clears his throat from outside the door. "I just wanted to make sure you're okay. Tonight was pretty emotional for all of us." He says quietly, as to not disturb anyone else on the floor.

"I-" Dalton cuts himself off, cursing his voice for cracking with emotion at that moment. His poorly concealed fear is seeping through the cracks in his emotional walls, and one half of him says he doesn't want Mackenzie to be there when the dam breaks.

The other half reasons that it might be soothing to have someone else there- especially someone older, someone with the same soothing presence as Mackenzie. 

He debates internally, weighing carefully the pros and cons. Totally unaware of the worry of the older male, standing just outside of his hotel room, softly prompting with repeated statements of his name, each slightly more worried than the last.

Mackenzie's own worry is broken by a declaration from the other side of the door. An unconfident, wavering declaration of 'come in' that sounds more like a question than a statement.

Mackenzie takes it, anything to be able to check on Dalton. He knew something was wrong, and he had figured that something was probably the video package.   
He opens the door without hesitation. As soon as he sees the younger boy, sitting desolately on his bedroom floor, a sharp pang of hurt stabs him right in the heart. "Oh..." He says quietly, unsure of how to approach the situation. He has absolutely no idea how to comfort the blonde boy.

Dalton doesn't look up when Mackenzie opens the door, clenching his fists tightly. He can feel the crescent moon shaped indents forming on the palms of his hands as the door clicks shut, but it's a better alternative to pulling out his own hair. With his head bowed, he can't see the rest of the room, meaning he can't see Mackenzie. But he can hear as the brunette sits down on the floor in front of him. He can see the other's sock-clad feet as Mackenzie crosses his legs in front of him. He can feel as his hand is gently taken, his fist pried open by calloused fingers, and gently set down on the carpet. The process is repeated with the other hand, and Dalton remembers to breathe.

His breathing is erratic, shaky and wavering, as if he's unsure about it. Mackenzie sits silently in front of him, breathing steadily, in and out. In and out. In and out.

The steady rhythm does little to soothe Dalton's panic, as his mind jumps from scenario to scenario. All of them end with him, alone and depressed in his room, everyone having turned away from him.

"That was really brave of you." Mackenzie says, after a solid five minutes of silence, and Dalton doesn't respond. He clenches his fists again, and again they are gently pried open. Mackenzie shifts from in front of him to his left, then hesitates. Dalton waits with bated breath for the older boy's next move.

He doesn't know what to expect, be it something cruel and harsh (which he doubts, from the sweet older boy) or some more comforting words, but instead he's surprised. Mackenzie's sweater-clad arm slides around his shoulders, providing a firm but reassuring weight to keep him grounded.

And with that, a final crack seals the fate of the dam, and it all comes crashing down, hard.

Dalton, with his head still bowed, allows the first tear to slip down his face and land on his legs. Many more follow suit, and within seconds Dalton can't see past the salty tears steadily cascading down his face. His body shakes with suppressed sobs and Mackenzie hums quietly.

"Oh, Dalton." Mackenzie says, heart breaking for the younger, broken boy beside him. He gently guides the blonde's head to rest on his shoulder, wrapping his other arm around the boy's chest. Mackenzie isn’t surprised, per se. He had known that Dalton was teetering on the edge of a breakdown like this for a while now, the question had just been when.   
Dalton doesn't speak, though over the sobs he doubts he could, as he listens to Mackenzie mutter soothing comfort. The words themselves slip through him, but the feeling behind them catches in his mind and helps to soothe the mental pain, like ice on a burn.

Mackenzie is almost as a loss as to what to do. Dalton is completely shattered, sobbing miserably. One of his hands is clenched weakly around a handful of Mackenzie's hoodie, and Mackenzie can't help but think that this is what the younger boy needs more than anything. Somewhere safe, non-judgmental, to strip his soul down and lay it all bare, cleanse himself from all the bad things. Mackenzie strokes his hair, carding his fingers through the blonde locks.

Dalton can barely catch a breath between his sobs, something in the back of mind telling him that this is weird, Mackenzie probably doesn't even care and he wants to shout at it because the logical half of him knows that if Mackenzie didn't care, he would have left, yet he's still here, running his fingers through Dalton's hair and whispering a soft mantra of 'it's alright, you're safe here, let it out'.

Time is a difficult thing to grasp when you're distraught beyond consolation, so Dalton has no idea how long they sit on the floor as he falls apart, and he has no idea how long Mackenzie spends picking up the broken pieces.

Eventually, though, the time comes when he's coherent enough to speak without his words being punctuated and horribly butchered by vicious sobs. "What if they all hate me?" He asks, and he's aware that it's the first thing he's said to Mackenzie in what has to be hours.

Mackenzie's surprise is poorly concealed, but he gathers his thoughts quickly to reassure Dalton. "Why would they hate you?" He asks. It's an innocent question, one meant to help Dalton get everything out, but his mind races. 'Because I’m crazy, because I'm a freak and now they know it, because they might think I'm lying,' His mind supplies unhelpfully.

Dalton finds his breathing restricted, becoming warmer as the room seems to shrink in size, and he gasps in a sharp, panicked breath and he knows what's coming and apparently so does Mackenzie, because the brunette immediately starts telling him 'breathe, Dalton. You need to breathe, you're panicking. It's okay, just breathe.'

A mantra of the same command, phrased a hundred different ways. The same gentle reminder through a thousand tones of concern.

"Breathe with me, okay, Dalton?" Mackenzie says, taking a deep, exaggerated breath and exhaling slowly, encouraging Dalton to do the same. "1, 2, 3, in. 1, 2, 3, out. Keep going." Mackenzie says to the boy in his arms, watching him shake and shudder as he tries desperately to get oxygen into his lungs.  
For a fleeting moment, Mackenzie wishes he could take all of Dalton’s worry and hurt and bear it himself, to stop the blue-eyed boy’s pain.

Beside him, Dalton stutters out a breath and his head drops, staring at the floor defeatedly. "No one is going to think less of you for letting them see your insecurities, and I don't think any less of you for breaking down like this." Mackenzie says to the younger boy, whose tears have ceased and who is back to breathing (for the most part) normally, ignoring the frequent stutters and hiccups.

"Thank you." Dalton says, barely audible. Mackenzie nods, humming as his fingers start carding through Dalton's hair once more. Dalton tries to hide a yawn, but fails miserably as his jaw cracks.

"It's probably late. You wanna get off this floor now?" Mackenzie asks, waiting for Dalton to give an affirmative nod. When he does, Mackenzie slowly unwraps himself from Dalton and stands up, offering a hand to the boy on the floor. Dalton grabs Mackenzie's hand, pulling himself into a standing position.

There’s a moment of awkward silence, before Dalton leans forward and wraps his arms around Mackenzie’s shoulders. As if reflex, Mackenzie winds his arms around Dalton’s waist in response. 

The two stand in the middle of the room, relishing in the comfort of the other’s arms. What’s probably minutes later, they pull out of the hug and Dalton looks Mackenzie in the eyes. “Will you stay?” He asks, almost shyly.

Mackenzie doesn’t need to think about it. He nods immediately, without hesitation. “Of course.” He nods. Dalton immediately relaxes in front of him.

Mackenzie retreats to his own room to change and get ready for bed before padding back down the hallway to Dalton’s room. When knocking on the door elicits a soft mumble of response, He pushes open the door and smiles at the sight before him.

Dalton, evidently exhausted by his breakdown, is already half asleep under the covers. He watches Mackenzie through half-lidded eyes as he shuts off both the room light and the bathroom light. As the room is plunged into darkness, Mackenzie slides into bed beside the tired blonde.

Dalton, as if a magnet, immediately curls up to Mackenzie’s side, laying his head on the older boy’s shoulder. Mackenzie sighs, feeling calm for the first time that week. He mutters a soft goodnight to Dalton before his eyes shut and sleep overtakes him.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh look, Micah can't end fics! In other news, fish can swim!  
> I don't know, I tried, okay? So yeah. Reviews would be greatly appreciated, whether they're compliments or hate. I really don't care because I get some feedback from it either way, right?  
> I'll be the first person to admit, I have minimal knowledge as to how Idol works behind the scenes. Just... pretend I'm right? Please?   
> I don't personally have bipolar so I don't know what it's like, but I have got a friend who has it, and she kind of fact-checked for me and gave me some information, so she was pretty invaluable to this.


End file.
